


Sibling Rivalry

by jdmcool



Category: Clone - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmcool/pseuds/jdmcool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing worse than having to deal with Mycroft, for Sherlock, was having to deal with the man and his twin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sibling Rivalry

**Author's Note:**

> I don't... Look, Tumblr was involved and I've been watching Clone and yeah. I'm going to be in my corner writing things of substance.

Making his way through the halls toward his brother’s office, Sherlock couldn’t say that he was in the best of moods. He hadn’t had a proper case in some time and even the one that Mycroft had given him involving a missing American that had taken up with a certain MP that Sherlock didn’t care about had been boring. After all, while he may have expected her to dead from the start, the fact that she was murdered couldn’t have been any easier to figure out. It was just Mycroft’s way of occupying his free time with a useless case because the man was too lazy to do things himself.

“You don’t think we should call first? I mean, he could be busy,” John tried to reason as he did is best to keep up.

Glancing at him, Sherlock gave a soft snort. “He’s the one who came to me about this.”

A case of some missing American woman who had made quite the name for herself in London publicly  and privately due to her affair with a certain MP. It had been all too easy to figure out, which mean that Mycroft only wanted him to look into it to keep the entire matter quiet, something else that Sherlock wasn’t particularly fond of given the fact that he wasn’t Mycroft’s errand boy. He should’ve known to go to John if he needed basic grunt work to be done since Sherlock did try to occupy his time with more important matters.

Not that he wanted Mycroft using his blogger either, Sherlock decided, looking back at John to make sure that he didn’t fall too far behind.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he expected you not to interrupt his meetings or lunch or... Whatever it is Mycroft does.”

“He knows me far better than that,” Sherlock said, secretly hoping that Mycroft was busy. Going up to Mycroft’s assistant’s desk, a title he found adequately suitable given her inclination toward given different names when asked, Sherlock asked, “Is my brother in?”

“Yes, but I don’t think you want to see him,” she said, with that ever so friendly smile as she sat up a bit straighter.

“Doubtful. Come on John,” he said before walking into Mycroft’s office.

“Mycroft, I need a team of your best men and... He’s not here.”

Looking between Sherlock and where Mycroft quite obviously sat in his chair, John couldn’t help but be confused. Sure, the man was wearing a military uniform, but John had long ago learned never to question either Holmes. “What do you mean he’s not here? He’s right in front of you,” John pointed out, feeling a bit worried for Sherlock.

Sitting up straighter, Mycroft smirked at Sherlock, a certain cruel glint in his eyes. “Such a pleasure to see you and your... doctor.”

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock questioned, his tone practically demanding an answer of some sort.

“Nothing that concerns you,” the politician said, with a casual wave of his hand. Looking over Sherlock carefully, he chuckled to himself and asked, “Working a case? Something to do with that unfortunate death of that MP’s mistress?”

“It wasn’t unfortunate. It was planned,” Sherlock sneered.

“I do so love a good murder before lunch. Details?”

“Nothing I would tell you.”

“What do you mean? You came all the way across town just to brag to him about how much cleverer you were than him,” John said, although he felt a bit nervous about such a thing.

Something about the politician seemed off beyond the different outfit. He could write off the fact that the man’s hair was a bit shorter than usual, even the odd sense of amusement he seemed to get from how put out Sherlock was. But the fact that Mycroft seemed to have forgotten about the case that he had asked them to deal with mad John wonder just what was wrong with the man.

Not that his disturbing interest in the murder of some woman’s death wasn’t a bit out of the norm, but John had long ago come to conclusion that Mycroft seemed like the type of bloke who could easily do away with anyone he didn’t particularly care for.

Rising from his seat, Mycroft clasped his hands behind his back as he made his way over to Sherlock, the look of false innocence somehow undercut by his words. “Be a good little brother and tell. Or else I may have to find a way to get this news from your by force.”

“Does he know you were in his chair?” Sherlock said not backing down.

Licking his lips, Mycroft looked positively threatening as Sherlock lifted his chin defiantly. “Are you going to tattle on me?”

“I’m sorry. What’s going on?” John asked, feeling a bit concerned for Sherlock’s safety.

“My brothers are having a row in my office,” Mycroft said as he walked into the room, looking over papers in his usual suit. Waving his hand at them, John was rather surprised when Sherlock and the man whom he had mistaken for Mycroft backed away from each other.

“You’re late to our meeting,” the Mycroft double said as he glared at him.

“Things ran late, I’m afraid to say.” Placing the papers on his desk, Mycroft finally turned to face them. With a quick scan over each of them, he looked nothing short of displeased by what he saw before sighing. “This does throw off my schedule quite thoroughly.”

“There’s two of them?” John asked Sherlock, since he didn’t think he could trust either Mycroft.

Sherlock gave him a confused look before taking notice of the fact that there were two Mycrofts in the room like John had. Chuckling, he shook his head. “Of course. You’ve never met the colonel.”

“Sherlock, when will you stop referring to him in such a manner?” Mycroft asked, rolling his eyes.

“When he’s demoted.”

“Or I have you permanently silenced,” the other Mycroft said, drumming his fingers together like some kind of evil villain as he smiled at Sherlock.

“As if you could. You’re still under Mycroft’s careful eye after that secret debacle of yours.”

At that the Mycroft double paled visibly, all good, if not a bit dark, humour gone in an instant. “What do you know of that?”

“He knows nothing so please don’t give into Sherlock’s mocking,” Mycroft said tiredly. Smiling politely, he, at least, didn’t seem as easily distracted by his own double as Sherlock was. “Anyways, John, this is my twin brother, Colonel Excelsior Black.”

“Black? But... I thought our last name was Holmes,” John asked, hating himself for his own curiosity.

“It is. But it wouldn’t do to have two high powered men in the government who look exactly the same with the same last name.”

“Eventually we’d get each other killed,” Colonel Black laughed.

“A truly tragic matter, given all that we do for the country,” Mycroft said in that tone that meant one was simply supposed to understand.

And he did, given that it wasn’t that hard to get. An egg gets fertilized and the splits causing monozygotic twins. It was basic biology, really. The fact that Mycroft Holmes was apparently one of the few people in the world who had a twin was a bit more terrifying than he would’ve cared to admit, but that was neither here or there, either.

After all, with the proof in front of him, there really was no denying the matter. That and they didn’t actually seem all that different. Both seemed to bother Sherlock, something John could sympathize with since he could only imagine what it was like to grow up with two of them. Shuddering at the thought, John decided not to dwell on it.

 “There’s not two of Sherlock too, is there?” John asked cautiously.

“Heavens no,” the twins said in unison, both looking mildly horrified by the idea.

“I would’ve had any twin of Sherlock's... dealt with if there was,” Colonel Black explained.

Smiling at his brother fondly, Mycroft said, “You very nearly had Sherlock dealt with. Although, he was such a noisy baby.”

“I’ll never understand why the maid had us retrieve him from the baker’s. She always wanted a child and mummy had a spare.”

Growing annoyed, Sherlock prodded the colonel in the chest bitterly. “I am not mummy’s spare child. If anything that would be—“

“Him?” Mycroft laughed, pointing to his twin. “High ranking, decorated military officer that chose to work within our government agencies?”

Standing up straighter, Colonel Black began to circle around Sherlock, looking him over as he said, “Perhaps he meant you, someone so far up the political ladder that he may or may not be running everything?”

“No. If anyone was going to be expendable it would have to be—“

“The former drug addict who now works in a profession that he more or less made up?” Colonel Black offered, smiling at his brother as he walked over to Mycroft.

“Quite.”

Sneering, Sherlock between the two of them, not sure who to direct his ire at. Clenching his jaw, he glared at them, the far too powerful twins practically daring him to say something. “Your MP had his mistress killed,” Sherlock finally forced out, as though that was some kind of insult.

Frowning, Mycroft simply said, “Pity.”

“I would say you might want to do away with him, but I have a feeling that’s why you have Excelsior here to begin with,” Sherlock said, petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We were merely going to have lunch,” Colonel Black said, sounding hurt by Sherlock’s accusation.

“Hardly. You two don’t dine together because you hate where Mycroft chooses to dine and he hates that you feel the need to walk everywhere. But one can always trust Ex to kill rather indiscriminately like a good soldier.”

“Hey. There’s more than one soldier in the room, mind you,” John pointed out. He didn’t mind if Sherlock decided to strike back at his brothers given that they had rather earned it, but when he was the one getting stuck in the crossfire, he knew he had to put a stop to it.

“John, you’re hardly any different. You killed Jeff Hope without even a second thought,” Sherlock said dismissively.

Looking between the twin Holmes brothers, John stammered helplessly under their vague look of surprise. “Anyone else you want to tell about that, Sherlock?”

“Don’t worry. The colonel has killed a number of men both on and off the battlefield and I doubt either of them would hold it against you that you saved my life by killing him.”

“It’s true,” Colonel Black said, looking far too pleased again for John’s liking. “Sherlock happens to be my favourite brother. Much more fun than Mycroft.”

“And more controlled than Excelsior,” Mycroft said, glaring at his twin.

Blinking, John shook his head as he tried to muddle through what he was hearing. “Wait. No. You were just taking the piss about him being expendable.”

“That was when he was a baby and—“

“To be fair, we were only seven. Nothing more than boys,” Colonel Black said, finishing Mycroft’s sentence.

“Stop doing that. Stop...” Pausing to take a breath, John decided that he couldn’t stay there and listen to them talk. Holding up his hands in defeat, he said “I’m going outside to talk to... Whatever your assistant is named. You three....”

Whatever was supposed to follow the start of his sentence never came as John walked out of the room, muttering to himself about the insanity of the Holmes family. Waiting until the door was closed to turn back to Sherlock, Colonel Black gave an amused sound.

“I think I rather like him. Far better than that Sebastian Wilkes,” he said rather fondly. Going over to Sherlock, he frowned at him as he rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I really wish you would’ve let me kill him.”

“Sebastian was a bad choice and I’m not seeing John. I’m married to my work,” Sherlock muttered.

Sharing a look with Mycroft, the colonel shook his head before going over to the papers Mycroft had placed on his desk, looking them over, even though he likely wasn’t supposed to.

“Of course you are,” Mycroft said patronizingly. “So, what exactly should I know about this murderous MP?”

Going over to the colonel, Sherlock began to read the papers over his shoulder, unable to resist smiling when Mycroft gave his usual exasperated sigh at their antics. He really did hate his family, especially brothers, but there was always something fun about teasing one another. They may not have been the paradigm of the normal family, but even the strangest of siblings couldn’t resist the lure of a good sibling rivalry.


End file.
